


Singing in the Rain

by Moonstruckidiot



Series: Will and Hannibals British adventures [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Gleeful Hannibal, Grumpy Will, Humour, Its just for fun, Lamppost, M/M, No Sex, Nonsense, Rain, Singing in the Rain, Umbrella, Yorkshire England, first kill, no violence, post wotl, the writer is laughing at herself for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:45:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7067548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonstruckidiot/pseuds/Moonstruckidiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their first kill Hannibal is elated and Will is well grumpy, Hannibal sings to Will in the rain</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If you want to read this you might want to watch - singing in the rain - Gene Kelly - before reading it - Find it on You tube - its a really old film regarded by many as the greatest musical every made - just watch the song clip its about 4 minutes long - I should put it on here but I'm lazy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Singing in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is set to MGMs Singing in The Rain
> 
> No one might read this but I don't care :)
> 
> No plot, no beta, this is just for fun.
> 
> ........  
> I did edit this once I realised people were reading it, there will still be mistakes though :)

Will closes the wooden farmhouse door behind him, or at least he tries to but the damn thing sticks.

“Let me do that,” says Hannibal with a big grin on his face, “there is a knack, lift it up and slide it in, don’t slam.”

Exactly why Will needs to know the ‘knack’ to closing this particular door is a mystery, they’ve cleaned up after themselves, no blood, no fingerprints, nothing left behind except a dead body which wont be found for a few days. It’s their first kill together, Will should be elated, Hannibal sure is, it soaks through every fibre of his being, a bit like the rain which hasn’t stopped in ten days.

Lifting up the hood of his black, Gore Tex jacket Will walks along the path, which would better be described as a mud swamp, leaving his companion to sort the door out. The rain has made the very ends of his jacket sleeves damp, its not penetrated deep inside but it chaffs just enough to irritate him.

The two men make their way past the husk of an old tractor left to rust outside a cow shed, the animals inside are healthy and well treated. The farmer was just rude, rather than letting traffic pass he’d come speeding out behind a slow moving truck nearly colliding with an old man walking across the road, intolerable.

Will turns to his companion who is now walking behind him, “Why did we come here?” Hannibal doesn’t need to be a psychiatrist to read the, “it’s all your fault” behind the words.

“Who would think to look for us in Yorkshire?”

“Yeah, who indeed,” Will is a little comforted by the thought that there is probably pig shit on back of Hannibal’s expensive trousers.

They make their way out of the farmyard to a narrow public path, they get out their head torches, snap them onto their foreheads and start down it. They are less likely to be seen heading down the path rather than the main roads, Hannibal explained earlier that evening. Will really knows its because Hannibal has a thing for the little green signs that say, ‘Public footpath.’ Normally they end up in a field somewhere with sheep or horses then they have to run across it to the turnstile and walk down another path to another field. This would be great if they had a dog, but that is still on Will’s grumble list. This path is  overgrown, steep and in places loose stones make it hazardous in the dark, and that’s without mentioning the 50 foot drop straight down into a stream at the bottom that’s mere inches away, but they survived one fall from a height much higher than this, _wouldn’t it be ridiculous if the two of them came to their end at the bottom of a little Yorkshire hill._

Although Will could not be described as a happy man right at this moment, he is at least happier when they get off the path and onto a road. The road is cobbled and Will just about manages to stop himself from falling on his arse as he realises its slippery underfoot from where moss has crept over it. _Why was he here? oh yes, because he killed the dragon with a cannibal serial killer._

The street lighting is pretty useless, it blinks on and off there is a sign from the council saying ‘fault reported’.

“You’d think they’d upgrade it,” Will says pointing at the offending lamppost.

“Are you scared someone is going to jump out and attack us?”

Despite himself Will laughs, “We would be so lucky.”

Hannibal leans his head back and opens his mouth enjoying the pitter-patter of tiny droplets on his skin and their taste on his tongue. He lifts up a long handled black umbrella and slides it open.

“Where the fuck did that come from?” exclaims Will, he was sure it hadn't been in the house with them.

“You know Will, you really need to loosen up," says Hannibal followed by, “Do, do do, do, do do, do do do do do do.”

Will stops walking, puts both hands on his face pulling at his cheeks, he shakes his head, _no, no this is not happening._

Hannibal turns towards Will and extends his hand, the scowl he receives is enough for him to know his companion does not care to dance.

The taller man retracts his hand, feels the rain hitting his palm, shrugs as he lowers and closes the umbrella. Will's reaction is to cover his eyes, _is he really going to do this here? What about no one knowing where we are._

Will can hear an orchestra stirring to life as Hannibal gracefully swings the umbrella to sit over his right shoulder and then, “I’m singing in the rain, just singing in the rain.” Hannibal’s posture relaxes, he starts to walk, long legs kick out in front of each other, a smile on his face.

Its well past 1am on a week night and all the lights are off in the little higgledy piggledy homes lining the street, everyone’s tucked up in bed. Perhaps if they hear a man sing they will just think its a dream, Will hopes so. He runs one hand through his hair, when he opens his eyes maybe he’ll be in his bed and its just the sound of Hannibal snoring through the thin walls in their house.

Then with one long theatrical sweep of his arm Hannibal destroys Will’s wishful thinking, “What a glorious feeling I’m happy again.”

Will knows what is coming next, he cant help but look as a lithe, muscular body leaps elegantly, not onto a human being, but the old lamppost.  

Will feels himself move, drawn forward by the magnetism of the most dangerous man alive joyously astride a lamppost. One arm wrapped loosely around the post, a foot secure against a small plinth, his free arm outstretched Hannibal sings, “I’m laughing at clouds, so dark up above.”

With a little jump Hannibal is down then takes the lamppost in what can only be called a loving embrace, “The sun's in my heart and I’m ready for love,” he smiles, eyes closed as if he were caressing a lover.

Will realises he is now very close to Hannibal. The doctor's eyes flick open, the two men are just centimetres apart, Will feels his lips captured in the briefest of kisses, followed by a little growl, or maybe he just imagined that part. Just as quickly the singing cannibal moves away leaving his audience of one dazed, confused and a little hot under his damp collar. Without conscious thought Will touches his fingers to his lips, surprised at how nice it had felt when their mouths met.

“Let the stormy clouds chase, everyone from this place.”

Long strides take Hannibal further away before he stops. Will can hear the punctuation of an orchestra as his companion's body opens up, standing with legs wide apart, arms outstretched and throws his head back inviting the rain to fall on his grinning face, “Come on with the rain, I’ve a smile on my face.”

Will blinks and an umbrella is being twirled, he all but skips after Hannibal as he moves to be nearer.

“I’ll walk down a lane, with a happy refrain. Just singing, singing in the rain.”

They’re at the end of the little cobbled street, the main road is quiet, just a church opposite, its tower visible above a high stone wall, and a few cars parked up. Rain is still pouring down, it has pooled on the pavement, Will laughs at the sight of his cannibal splashing about in the large puddle. This time he takes the hand when it is offered and they both start to kick great flurries of water everywhere.

A police car drives up, pulls over and a window is lowered, “Everything OK gentlemen?" asks the woman driver with a smile.

“Yes, thank you officer,” replies Hannibal stealing a kiss from Will.

“Have a good night then,” and the car drives off leaving the serial killer and his partner behind.

At a lower pitch Hannibal sings, “Just singing and dancing in the rain.” Will looks at him and grins.

They run to their car, “Scotland?” Hannibal asks.

Will nods, “Yeah, anywhere,” the 'with you' doesn't need to be said. 


End file.
